Thursday, 31 May 2012

Just as well it was the jumble sale sneak preview this morning, it's been raining almost all of the day so there was zero chance of traipsing around a field at our favourite weekday car boot sale.

What did I get? This 1970s chiffon peasant skirt and TopShop sequined crop top for starters. I'd like to think I'll be wearing these outdoors at next weekend's No Direction Home festival so fingers crossed our heatwave makes a comeback before then.

I'm not a fitness obsessive, simply an arthritic old bat, if I don't exercise and keep trim it plays havoc with my poor old joints and there's nothing more embarrassing than strangers stopping me in the street and offering to carry my shopping home or give me a lift somewhere because they feel sorry for me.

What I'm wearing today for a trip to the dentist (after breaking my tooth eating salad). £48 for a filling, I shudder to think what I could buy from tomorrow's jumble sale with that much money.

I found this picture of my Mum whilst I was sorting out some stuff at my Dad's earlier. I've never seen it before, most of our family photos are on slides. It's from August 1968, a few days after my little brother was born. How groovy was her up-do and mini dress?

There's this fabulous futuristic crimplene catsuit by Louise Fashions of New Zealand which makes me feel like a 1960s Bond bad girl.

An Indian adventure.

Vintage patterns

She also sent a1970s cord maxi skirt by David Grey (presumably not the wobbly headed singer). Also in the parcel was a1960s St Michael lurex mini dress and a flower child nylon halter top, which were both from everyone's favourite squirrel, Vanessa.

There was a pouch containing a pretty Indian silver chain & a kitsch poodle brooch from fab Kiwi, Sue.

Don't worry, soon after I ripped open my parcel I donated two vests, 3 books, a sarong, three belts and a bag to the Salvation Army and gave away 5 bottles of nail polish to a friend's daughter.
Ten in, fifteen out, balance maintained.

Off to get cracking on one of my new vintage patterns, I may be some time.

Some say a bikini doesn't belong on a woman over forty, I say not only should we old biddies wear our bikinis with pride but make them so loud and crazy that the age police spontaneously combust with outrage.

Rosemary & Sarah both asked where I store my clothes. This is it. Believe it or not I can get my clothes into a double wardrobe. The suitcases are crammed with tights, scarves, shawls, belts and bags. My Mum & Grandma were terrible hoarders and dealing with their possessions after their deaths frightened me into being ruthless with my belongings.

Out-of-season stuff is stored on top, clothes I only wear when I'm travelling, heavier dresses, gloves and knitted hats.

The top two dressing table drawers house my make-up & nail varnish on one side and hair accessories and sunglasses on the other, the drawer below holds swimwear & what little underwear I own and the lower drawer has jeans and tops that don't need ironing.

For every new item that enters my wardrobe at least two existing items have to leave.

Friday, 25 May 2012

The wonderful Curtise sent me a parcel containing a fabulous lame dress with the grooviest of vintage labels. I couldn't wait to get it on my back but despite it looking great off, once on my body it was a different matter entirely.

I wasn't wearing the frock, the frock was wearing me and something had to be done.

I thought about hacking it off to mini length, but the hips weren't flared enough for that, so out came the seam rippers and off came the sleeves.

Bare arms are much more me.

Also in the parcel were these fabulously garish etched glass Spanish dancers (which are already adorning the Wall Of Random) and a gloriously retro postcard. Curtise, have I told you lately that I love you?

Can you believe these brand new boots were a quid from the car boot yesterday?

I also picked up this little lot:

I did get much,much more but opted for an afternoon in the sun rather than a photographing marathon.

The car boot sale on a Thursday is full of antique dealers offloading their house clearance detritus. These all came from the estate of an elderly lady who was an inveterate hoarder. They had been bought in the 1960s and 1970s never been worn or enjoyed, which made both me and the dealers very sad.

It's a quiet night in the garden with rum and coke and Jon's special pizza tonight, I want to be up early for the Saturday boot sale.

Liz snapped up these 1970s high heeled wellies at a jumble sale so now I'm all ready and raring to go.

Twelve months ago I customised this 1960s St Michael nightie by chopping a few inches off the bottom, sewing the petals from some fake flowers on the shoulders and adding some pearly vintage buttons.

It went down a storm in the mosh pit at the Pulled Apart By Horses set at last years' Glasto. It was a hideously muddy day and the last thing I wanted was a maxi dress trailing in the filth.

If you're a Brit you'll be inundated with "festival fashion" features in the media from now until September. Most of it's dull as ditch water, who wants to dress like the thousands of other festival-going chicks? Your friends will never find you if you wander off to the cider bus.

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I'm Vix, a jumble sale-ing, car-booting, skip-diving, charity shopping, hedonistic hippy chick in love with life, India and vintage clothes.
In my world getting dressed is always an adventure, never a chore. My style is Woodstock refugee meets Rolling Stones groupie with a bit of vintage Bollywood thrown in. I don't follow fashion and if I look ridiculous so what? Not being noticed and blending in with the crowd is my idea of hell.
A day without dressing up is a day wasted.